


Starts So Soft and Sweet

by starfleetdicks



Series: Be Careful of the Curse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Dark!Derek, Emotional Abuse, Hurt, M/M, Mental Abuse, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:52:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks/pseuds/starfleetdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deception is a careful waltz, skittering steps that dance across decaying floors, threatening each movement. Ready to crumble beneath you at the wrong step.</p>
<p>Derek has mastered it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starts So Soft and Sweet

He can’t trust anyone to keep quiet about it. He doesn’t trust them anyway. They’d ruin the careful months he’s put into everything, the many more it might take. He should thank Kate for her example, meticulous planning and “playing.” That’s what will get him what he wants. And oh, how it would make Peter proud to know how patient he can be, how manipulative. Such a long waiting game, but he can’t tell anyone.

It’s his solely: his secret, his curse to carry.

Each slow, deep thrust draws him closer to his ends. The claw marks decorating pale skin will help him eventually claim what is truly his. Every drag of his tongue over sweat soaked skin, soft suckles tracing freckles, scratch of canines over blue-green veins: these are self-sacrifices, ones willingly made. It doesn’t hurt that he’s enjoying it too.

The sex is fun, Kate would taunt.

And he understands now, the purely physical satisfaction, the lack of any true emotional connection. Yes, he knows it now and it is more than fun, more than worth it.

Because it’s so sweet, the way the body gives under him, arches under every touch, submits. Submits like he so desperately craves, but it’s still wrong, not enough, never enough. Yet, he can enjoy how that body stutters, trembles, and goes silent in ecstasy. Those are the best moments, the achingly sweet silence. Something poetic in the sounds of harsh breathing and soft laughter, ignorant to the truth, blind to its own purpose.

And it’s easy, incredibly easy to utter expected confessions, three word phrases, whispered promises. He can recite them in his sleep, when asked half awake, when the truth is just under the surface.

I love you. I’ll never leave. This is real.

He can almost believe it himself, that he means what he says, implies. That the thumb tracing the now familiar cluster of imperfections finds them cute, appealing, attractive. That the press of his nose against the soft hollow of the neck is because he loves their mixing scents.

The reality is too cruel.

His captive’s name is so far from his mind in those moments, his scent second to the true reason that drives those inhalations. The smell lingers there, hiding deep under the host’s. Like a parasite born of too many years of devotion, it’s soaked itself into his prey’s clothes, his skin, his hair. It drives each draw of air through his nostrils, frequent and obsessed.

He never forgets his true aim. It’s impossible.

They are alike: loyal, soft-hearted, meant to be dominated, pawns to higher purposes, forbidden fruits, intelligent, and yet somehow still naive, still witless. And yet they are so different: one refusing to submit where one has already given in, one werewolf where the other is human, one who believes in the power of love and one who has known loss and is weary, and so the list goes on.

He keeps these fresh on his thoughts, blends them for convenience, to foster the lie, to ease the way.

It’s a careful waltz, skittering steps that dance across decaying floors, threatening each movement. Ready to crumble beneath you at the wrong step.

Derek has mastered it.

He wraps his arm around Stiles, fingers gracing sharp hip bones, claws catching cloth. Each move deliberate as Scott enters the room and Derek breathes in deep, memorizes the scent he finds second hand on his victim late each night. He bides his time for a little longer, for as long as it’ll take, until he has his true desire and he can cast away the means to his end. He presses a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek, smirks, and waits.

Until the body under him is Scott’s, until he submits.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [you're a hideous thing inside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/526734) by [Inkarnadyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkarnadyne/pseuds/Inkarnadyne)




End file.
